


Echoes in the Mind. (Eyes Follow the Soul.)

by RandomFanfictions, tiny_exe (RandomFanfictions)



Category: Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Genre: (well it’s implied), Angst, Bad coping mechanisms, Good Yagami Light, L is Bad at Feelings, Light questioning his sanity, M/M, Moral Dilemmas, Not Beta Read, We Die Like Men, Yagami Light has an eating disorder, Yotsuba Arc (Death Note), some fluff sprinkled in?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:07:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28248870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RandomFanfictions/pseuds/RandomFanfictions, https://archiveofourown.org/users/RandomFanfictions/pseuds/tiny_exe
Summary: Light blinked hard. He felt groggy, like he’d woken up from a dream. Light he couldn’t help but claw at what was left of his mind. But all at once, the thoughts are removed.(I am not Kira.)As soon as he completes the phrase in his head, he feels incredible emotions. A flurry of hollowness and relief, joy and pain. His being had wilted a way and he became young once again, childlike innocence emerging from the deepest chasm of his mind.Though, his heart felt empty. Cold and unfulfilled. Words in the breeze taunting him with something just out of his reach.Light doesn’t know who he is grieving for, but he can sense he lost an identity.“There are still no murder, Light-kun.”He let himself curl closer on the cold cement floor, impossibly alone.There were invisible eyes all over Light.Or: Light is split between the self forged through power and the self born of morals. Kira haunts Light like a shadow and Light wants to feel human again.
Relationships: L & Yagami Light, L/Yagami Light
Comments: 9
Kudos: 52





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Content Warning:** implied eating disorder, graphic/disturbing imagery, implied dissociation, and generally heavy themes 
> 
> anyways, this was gonna be a one shot but then i hit 11k words and decided i should split it up a little...

Kira’s eyes were set alight with passion, his hand delicately tracing the pages of the Death Note. 

The unfortunate capture of Misa has forced him to shift focus, but it would only be a small setback, Kira decided. An opportunity to deceive them all and prove just how intelligent he truly is. 

The confusion he will undoubtedly cause to L almost makes the whole ordeal worth it. 

Almost. 

Because of course, with all the planning Kira could do, there is still the uncertainty of Light. Kira knew Light and Light knew himself, but who is to say that without the Death Note’s influence, without a goal in mind, Light wouldn’t do something unexpected. 

No. That wouldn’t happen. Kira was sure of it. He _had_ to be sure of it. This was the most fun he has ever had. This is the most fun _Light_ has ever had. There is no chance that he’d somehow ruin the game. 

Kira’s eyes are as vibrant as they are thoughtful, calculating the likelihood of every plan, every course of action which may occur across the grand rippling effect he would undoubtedly cause. Normally, he plans for the near future. His schemes of deceit never pass further than a month into the future, but this plan will take many variables, many moving pieces which cannot always be guaranteed.

But he was a smart boy, Kira decided. This would most certainly work. 

“Ryuzaki,” Light echoes the words, into the phone, perfectly rehearsed as Kira so willed, “I have something important I must speak to you about in person.” 

“I see. Go ahead, Light-kun.” L answers.

“I will be arriving shortly.” 

The phone clicks and he lets his hand slide down to his waist. All Light can think of are Kira’s eyes.

* * *

The elevator door slides open easily, mechanical and unthinking, obeying orders without a protest. Like everything in the world, there were always orders to follow, laws to abide by, and a leader to define the world for the rest to comprehend. Light felt that in many ways, he too was nothing more than a vehicle for the greater plan of the new world.

But that thought doesn’t last long. Light is Kira, and Kira is a God.

Light knew this. He knew this fact well. He is Kira. He is Kira. Yagami Light is--

“Good afternoon, Light-kun.” L waves a hand, for once not staring at a computer screen.

In fact, the monitor is off, Light notes. Not that it’s important information. Light already knew who had to be on the screen.

“I think I’m Kira,” he wastes no time confessing. 

Light’s face was a schooled look of both guilt and fear. Kira’s breath is on the back of his neck, hot and full of anticipation. Light has to make a tight fist to keep from reacting, fingernails creating small indents on the inside of his palm.

“Wait just a moment!” Yagami Soichiro leapt from his seat, already on his way to either kill Light or kill L. Or possibly both. “Light, explain yourself!”

Light’s eyes drift from L to his father, then back to L. When he speaks, his voice is careful. A calculated formula to feign anxiety. 

“I can’t stop thinking about it—what if I’m Kira. I have no memory of killing people, but Ryuzaki suspects me. And even if only by a small amount, knowing that the world’s greatest detective believes I’m Kira, there has to be a cause for suspicion... “ Light trails off, now looking at his hands.

For some reason, he felt both too personal and distant all at once. Like the room was shrinking in while his lungs expanded against his ribcage, squeezed by every possible angle from all the eyes on him.

In the back of his mind, Kira congratulated him. 

In the back of his mind, Kira scolded him.

Maybe the anxiety wasn’t as much of a facade as he wanted to believe. But Light was no hostage. Light and Kira are the same. Light is Kira. Kira is a God.

“Yes, I do suspect you, and I intend on investigating you very soon, Light-kun.”

“Look, as the evidence stands, I was being investigated by the FBI agent Raye Penber right before he died. I was in Aoyama on the 22nd, the day the second Kira made contact with the first. _I_ was meeting with Misa, the very person you suspect of being the second Kira. Doesn’t matter what way I look at it… I match the description… I _have_ to be Kira.”

There’s a pause where no one spoke and Light took it as an invitation to continue. 

He swallowed hard, a knot tightening in his throat. “I don’t remember it. I don’t remember any of it, but… I’m questioning my own sanity. I have to be Kira, so maybe I’m killing as I sleep? I’m not conscious when I act, but maybe that has something to do with the code about Shinigami and that’s why--”

“No,” L blinked owlishly at Light. “No, you aren’t doing it unconsciously. I didn’t mention it to you before since it seemed irrelevant, but I had security cameras placed in your room. There is no information to indicate that you were killing at all, but I felt it was a precaution I needed to take.”

“But there have been times when I wished some people to die only for Kira to kill them shortly thereafter. How could you be so sure?”

“Kira needs access to news sources to kill, however murders were occurring while you studied, away from any information you may require had you been Kira.” 

Just in the corner of Light’s vision, he could feel Kira smile. It was the kind of toothy grin that held hatred within the tensing of each muscle. But this was how Kira showed he was happy. He was satisfied with the show Light was putting on and even more delighted by L’s answers.

Kira had taken grab of the invisible threads holding together their unsaid war and brought them into the sunlight. He pushed away the pleasantries and forced L to show his hand. And if Light had to bare his chest for the task force to see, well Kira knew it would work out in his favor anyways. Light's apparent ‘suspicion’ of his own sanity was enough to convince the others he was truly worried about Kira--that Light would never be associated as Kira to begin with.

“But Light wasn’t always under surveillance,” One of the men, Aizawa, adds. Kira’s smile turned into a snarl. 

“We lacked resources so we couldn’t have him under constant watch,” he continued, “so he could have had the time to kill whenever he left the house,”

There’s a certain emotion that flickers through L’s eyes. Confusion, annoyance? Whatever it was, Kira found himself snickering. A soft, quiet thing that whispered in Light’s ear like a gust of wind. 

“Is Light-kun looking to be confined?” L finally said after an awfully long pause. 

Light nodded. “Please. I don’t know how I’d live with myself without knowing.”

Kira knows that L knows. Knows that he is playing right into their hands. Falling for their trap hook, line, and sinker. But Kira also knows the kind of person L is. 

He’s an honorable man through and through, so he will abide by the unspoken rules of their battle of wits. He will fall for their tricks because that’s simply how he plays the game. 

Kira can pull, prod, and do whatever he’d like--hell, Light could confess to everything right now, lay his heart for L to pick apart, but L would never accept that type of victory. Without concrete proof, without a clean end, he would never be satisfied. 

Kira knows the kind of man L is, and he knows he’d never play dirty. 

Light revealing he was Kira is the smartest play he could make. Something L would’ve never expected and something he’d never stoop so low to. The pure frustration he must be experiencing was enough to leave Kira content with his choices.

“I see. I already have arrangements for an isolated cell. Let’s get sensory deprivation tools out, we have to cuff, blind, and deafen him.”

“So suddenly? Now?” He hears a few voices shout their concerns.

“Yes, we must do it now or he could have time to prepare a plan.” L responds cooly. As if he didn’t know there was already a plan set in action.

“Ryuzaki, I can’t have you do this. This is my son, I don’t think I can--” Soichiro bursts into a first of momentary rage. He locks eyes with his son for a moment.

“Dad, please.” Is all Light says. 

Light is Kira, and he knows how to manipulate his emotions. He knows how to tug on the heartstrings and do what is expected of him. 

Success is what’s expected of him now.

The fight in the Chief’s eyes dies along with whatever protest he was about to make. Instead, he pushes a hand through his hair and sobers up. 

“I apologize. My emotions are clouding my judgement. I believe I should be taken off the case as I cannot be objective in this matter… Not when it regards my son as a primary suspect.” 

L simply shakes his head. “I do agree you can’t be impartial, but I feel that your input is valuable as ever. Instead, I suggest you take some time to be with your family. 

Is he always so dismissive? Light can’t help but wonder.

“Ryuzaki, you don’t understand. I can’t go home, I-I’m asking for you to confine me too. I say this with complete sincerity when I mean I don’t know what I’d do if Light is guilty. I’m likely to go as far as murder him then myself.”

For as much as Light wants to act surprised at that threat, deep down, he knows that this was a likely outcome from his father. He was a very emotionally irrational man when it became personal.

As much as he cringed at the thought, Kira might have a place for him if things become hairy.

“Understood. We’ll arrange for you to have a room. You won’t be in the same type of confinement, but you will be kept securely nonetheless.” 

Several people made sounds of protest, but silenced when Soichiro raised a hand. “Please. I must do this for myself as much as my son. I will not return until Light has been cleared.”

At that, they seemed to solemnly take the answer. It what they wanted nor expected, but his word was final. 

Without another moment, Kira was being escorted to his prison where he’d let the next segment of his plan fall into place.

* * *

The cell is cold. It’s nothing but a concrete cube with a single metal door. Not that the door ever opened. No, there was one slot where food would come in and the plates returned out of.

For the first time in his life, Light felt claustrophobic. 

Maybe it was his conscience weighing on him, or maybe it was the ticking clock, counting down the seconds until the next Kira would take action. 

Or maybe it was the eyes he felt all over his body. 

That’s another thing about this cell. Eyes were always on him. L’s eyes specifically, but he knew the others were there, watching him waste away. Pathetic.

As a result of the eyes, Light was acutely aware of every movement he made. The rise and fall of his chest, the sandpaper called his throat swallowing saliva, the miniscule muscles in control of his blinks. 

Light was aware of everything in his body and he forced a practiced calm over his emotions at all times. One wrong move could ruin it all.

Or at least, that is what Kira feared. 

Kira was proud. Kira was smart. But he surely knew how to make Light feel fear. 

_(I am Kira,_ ) Light reminds himself. _(I am Kira.)_

“Light-kun said something?” L’s voice cuts through the muddled thoughts of Light’s mind. Had he spoken aloud?

“Are there any new deaths?” Light asks instead. He knew the answer would be the same.

L would never admit to when the killings began. But no matter, Ryuk’s laughter was enough to indicate a lie.

“I am Kira,” Light says again, this time controlling the way he allows horror to seep into every syllable. “I..I’m Kira.”

Light lets the fear creep up his face and paint a pained emotion. That of a teenager much too young to be contemplating the value of one person’s life over another. That of a boy who was given too much power. 

Maybe, Light indulges in a half formed thought, he wasn’t pretending as much as he believed.

* * *

There was a point when Light had slumped onto his side to lay down, facing the camera. 

Yes, there was a point in time he did that, but Light could not remember when that happened nor why he remained still. 

Light is not human. Light is a God.

He blinked lazily at the bed where he saw Kira watching over him. It seemed like no matter the state Light was in, however dazed, lethargic, and upset… Kira’s eyes were always sharp. 

It reminded Light of a hawk, waiting for his prey. 

But that is who he is after all. Light is Kira. Kira is a God.

* * *

“This pride doesn’t suit me,” Light muses to himself. To L. 

It may be solitary confinement, but he knew L was on the other side of that camera. “I should just get rid of it,”

There is a long moment of silence where Light’s facade falters. Ryuk made no effort to move and Kira’s eyes bore into his mind, ideas and commands rattling around his skull waiting for a place to strike. 

It only lasted a second, but Light was almost afraid that Ryuk hadn’t caught it. A terrifying feeling of ice in his veins. 

But when Ryuk stands up tall and leans over Light’s depressed form on the ground, he feels victory on his lips once again. 

“Is it time already? Well, see you later, Light.” 

Light is Kira. Kira is a God.

Light is Kira. Kira is a God. 

Light is Kira. Kira...

Light is….

Light blinked hard. He felt groggy, like he’d woken up from a dream. There were vivid memories slipping through his fingers, nothing more than grains of sand following the will of gravity. Light he couldn’t help but claw at what was left of his mind. But all at once, the thoughts are removed. 

Light is a student of To-Oh university. He is the son of Yagami Soichiro and older brother of Yagami Sayu.

Light is...not Kira. 

( _I’m_ not Kira.)

As soon as he completes the phrase in his head, he feels incredible emotions. A flurry of hollowness and relief, joy and pain. His being had wilted a way and he became young once again, childlike innocence emerging from the deepest chasm of his mind. 

Though, his heart felt empty. Cold and unfulfilled. Words in the breeze taunting him with something just out of his reach. 

Light doesn’t know who he is grieving for, but he can sense he lost an identity. 

“I’m not Kira.” Light barely mumbles. As soon as he said it, there was a nagging sensation to let it be heard, let it be cried from the rooftops. 

To let it become known that Light is _not_ Kira! Why the hell did he ask to be locked up in the first place?

He’s not Kira so there is no need for such drastic measures. 

Light is not Kira. 

He isn’t.

“There are still no murder, Light-kun.”

Light’s momentary relief is immediately squashed. It didn’t matter if alight knew he wasn’t Kira, he told Ryuzaki to keep him in confinement until he was cleared. 

He let himself curl closer on the cold cement floor, impossibly alone.

There were invisible eyes all over Light.

* * *

It was weeks. Months?

Light doesn’t bother moving anymore. 

Perhaps at some time, he still stood up to receive a plate of food, crawled on his bed and pretended he could bring sleep into fruition if he concentrated enough. 

But now, he stayed on the floor. Just like he had when the revelation of not being Kira struck him. Just like he had when he felt holes in his memory.

Not that he’d tell L.

Light hasn’t eaten an actual meal in who knows how long. (L. L probably knows). At first, it was the effort it took to grab it, but now Light feels that the gnawing in his stomach helps keep his thoughts clear.

More often than not, his mind becomes a muddled mess of misplaced ideas and memories. (Something is wrong. It doesn’t make sense.)

He could feel it in his brain like a tongue rubbing around his mouth, searching for the source of pain and prodding everything in its path until he could pinpoint the cause. 

Light doesn’t remember meeting Misa. 

He doesn’t remember why she’s obsessed with him.

He doesn’t remember why he was so adamant about the cameras in his room. 

The answers were right _there_ , barely out of touch, out of reach. (Goddamnit.) Echoes of whispers, the ghost of a hand, watered down emotions.

Through the murky tides of his mindscape, there was one thing that Light could pick apart. Like a dream fading behind consciousness, Light remembers a game. A battle of wits between him and L. 

The context for it all had been washed away with the sands of time, confined to the recess of his brain, but Light knew his place. _(Act the part, sell the performance.)_

Light doesn’t know what’s compelling him to follow, but it feels bone deep and heavy in a way that Light could never escape. He’s soul bound to something, an oath written in blood with a pledge to his mind.

A voice whispers a thought, a promise. _(Follow the crumbs and we will succeed.)_

Light was not Kira, and Kira was not human.

* * *

He felt empty, Light decided one day. He wasn’t sure if it was a late night epiphany or a realization that hit him during the socially acceptable hours of the day. 

But the time really doesn’t matter, now does it? 

It’s all the same.

Every second blended into the next. Every thought the same as the last. Light was half convinced he had gone crazy by doing nothing. 

Well, that _is_ the point of solitary confinement. In one way or another, the end result was always some form of insanity. Inmates, if not already, often finished their sentences unhinged.

But Light isn’t unhinged. 

Light isn’t Kira. 

Light is Human. 

Kira isn’t Human. 

“News?” Light managed to get the word out of his throat, painfully dry and itchy. His brain nearly forgot how to use those muscles all together. 

“There are no new murders.” 

L stopped trying to taunt Light. There was no use baiting someone who had no motivation to banter, let alone speak. His words were always the same. 

“Do you admit to being Kira?”

“No.”

Light figured he must look pathetic enough that L doesn’t press for more. Wilting away, chained, restricted, without a single shred of innocence. 

He felt so utterly exposed, but there's no bother in hiding it at this point. Light is human. Light is not Kira. Light is _not_ Kira. 

His mind wandered back to missing gaps—where they came from and what purpose they served. Whatever it may be, Light does what he is expected of. 

Light’s only purpose is to _be_ what is expected. 

Light is not Kira.

* * *

When Light is escorted to a kind of garage, he is greeted by Misa who offers him the first bit of human touch he has experienced in almost two months. In any normal circumstances, he’d reject this kind of touch from another person, especially Misa. But like everything else as of late, this was no ordinary circumstance. 

Light welcomed the touch. 

“I missed you, Light!” She cried into his shoulder.

“I’m not Kira,” he told her. Light leaned closer to her warm touch. 

“I know you’re not,” 

Such a simple phrase, yet it brings more relief than Light would dare to admit. 

Light let his mind relax as he entered the car, his father opening the door for him. Everything feels...strangely comfortable. 

(Something bad is going to happen.) 

Light knows it, but he wants to feign ignorance. If not for anything other than his own sake. 

Of course, like all good things, it doesn’t last long.

“Where are you taking us Mr. Yagami?” Misa has one arm wrapped tightly against Light, the other gesturing wildly as if her tone of voice wasn’t already enough to indicate her excitement. 

The father looked at the two from the rear view mirror, a somber expression before he allowed himself to speak. “The execution site.” 

At that, Light’s blood runs cold. (No. No, no, no, no, _no, no, no!_ )

“I’m not Kira!” Light desperately cried out. He clutched the shoulder of the driver’s seat, like he could turn his father around and have him face Light and tell him that he believed his own son was a murderer. A monster. 

“Dad!” 

“L decided you two were Kira and the second Kira. The government would like to get rid of this issue as quickly and discreetly as possible. I volunteered to drive you to the site myself.”

Everything in Light’s body was screaming wrong, _wrong, wrong!_

This was wrong. This had to be some kind of fucked up joke. This was a joke. 

It has to be. 

Light isn’t a Kira. He isn’t Kira. Light is human. Light isn’t Kira. Light is human. Human. Kira is not human. 

Light’s thoughts were reeling, a million scenarios occurring all at once—how did L come up with the evidence, this isn’t enough. Light was framed, he had to be. Kira.. Kira isn’t… 

“Do you really trust L more than your own son?” Light pleaded with his father. 

_(Too little too late.)_

Soichiro pulled over to an abandoned bridge, brandishing a gun in hand. “I’m going to kill you and then myself. Misa, they’ll notice I’m late and they’ll be here for you soon.”

There was a pistol on his forehead. It was cold, freezing. Light never felt more terror.

Light isn’t Kira. He isn’t. He isn’t Kira, he isn’t Kira, he isn’t, he isn’t he isn’t. 

(I’m human. I’m human. I’m not a monster, I’m not a monster. I’m human. I’m not Kira.)

Like a mantra, Light couldn’t stop thinking. He isn’t Kira. He’s going to be killed as an innocent person, a teenager who never experienced life. 

“From one murderer to another, I’ll see you in hell.” Soichiro said.

Light is a human, but he’s often a puppet dancing to whatever tune the world expects him to use. Light can be a puppet sometimes. And his strings have just been cut.

Light grit his teeth and awaited blackness. There was no time for last words, regrets, lost dreams. 

Soichiro pulled the trigger.

...

Nothing.

Light risked opening one eye. Then another.

He.. he isn’t dead. 

“Thank God. It was a blank.” Soichiro lowered his weapon and slowly slid down the back of his seat. “There’s a camera in here, right, Ryuzaki? You caught all of that?”

Light couldn’t feel anything, his body numb with adrenaline. “Blank?” He echoed.

“Sorry for scaring you kids. It was the only way I could get you out of there.” Soichiro clutched his chest with one arm and wiped his face with the other, pistol long forgotten on the floor of the car. 

Light doesn’t bother responding. He can’t think, can’t focus. 

(This is how far L is willing to go?)

“Kira needs a face and name to kill. Had Light-kun been Kira, he would’ve killed before his father just to keep himself alive. Kira only cares for himself at the end of the day.” L’s voice came from the front speaker. 

Light’s skin crawled at the sound.

He doesn’t speak for the rest of the ride.

* * *

L introduces the idea of handcuffs. Light doesn’t answer. 

Instead, he wordlessly accepts the cuffs and follows L around. 

Light isn’t Kira. He isn’t. 

_(Then why does it feel like something is missing?)_

Light is certain there’s a missing piece. A clue he didn’t catch. There was something gone that should’ve been there. In his memories, in L’s deductions… it wasn’t adding up. 

Maybe he is Kira. 

Light decided to push away the coffee he was nursing. The bitter taste did nothing to hide the flavor of bile in his mouth. Besides, it only increased the pain in his stomach. 

He had no appetite. 

Light was going to need to work harder than he is in order to unravel the truth, he decided. Light isn’t Kira. 

Light was human.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Content Warning:** implied eating disorder, graphic/disturbing imagery, implied dissociation, and generally heavy themes

Light’s new behavior did not go unnoticed by a single person. For an infuriating moment, L believed it was another act. Something he was doing to gain some kind of sympathy or pity, to lower the percentage of being Kira. 

But after a day, L was sure that wasn't true. 

But after a week, L became worried. 

Yagami Light was different all together. His mannerisms, behavior, speech pattern. L thought he had picked this boy apart, but here he was, surprising L with every new twist and turn. Light’s eyes, although weary, held a certain kind of innocence that L swore had never been there before. 

There was another thing too—his body language was now much more closed. 

When Light was sure no one was watching—well, no one besides L—he had the tendency to curl in himself. 

Of course not to the same extent as L with his knees to his chest and back ruined in an impossible posture. No, Light liked to have his arms clutched around himself, like a hug he desperately craved. His right hand usually reaches up to his head where he crumpled inwards on himself, pulling at his overgrown hair or rubbing the back of his neck. 

L couldn’t help but feel like he was intruding on something very private. The way he forced a smile on his face, straightening his posture, knees apart as a means to appear confident. L felt he was violating each time he witnessed the rapid shift in behavior, yet there was something nagging at him in the back of his mind. 

Light was clearly faking it, letting L see it first hand. So what was the point?

He must _realize_ that L knows. But maybe he feels comfortable enough to do so. 

(Peculiar.)

Light seemed so guarded in that cell. What changed now?

Finally, when the day comes to a close, L would have his chance. The task force members shuffle out one by one, taking their time sorting through the last of their paperwork, finding lost items, chatting idly. L can’t understand why leaving would take such a long time, but nonetheless, when they all finally vanish, L is grateful. 

“I have a question for Light-kun,” he says after another moment of complete silence. 

“Will it change my suspicion percentage?” Light asks, not taking his eyes off the computer. His fingers hack away at the keyboard and L idly wonders if this is how he himself must appear to others. 

(Irrelevant.) L has other issues to occupy his mind. 

“No. I wanted to ask why you’ve changed your attitude. Before, you kept that same facade on at all times, but it appears I am now privy to this side of you. Not that the others haven’t surely picked up on your shift in energy. “

Light finally drags his eyes off the computer to watch L. “I don’t get it. Isn’t this what you wanted from me?” 

L doesn’t understand, but Light saves him the effort of asking. 

“You want to know my behavioral patterns, my habits, everything. You want to catalogue every last detail. There’s no point in staying on guard trying to hide the cracks when you’d see though it anyways.”

The two stare at each other for a long time. Much longer than L would have liked. He felt awkward under that gaze; Light wasn’t quite looking at him, but not past him either. It was a sort of detached observation, viewing the world from the outside.

His eyes were a certain type of dull. 

L decided to drop the conversation.

* * *

“Do you think I’m Kira?” Light questioned one night.

It was late, probably nearing the early hours of the morning, but the moon sat still in the sky all the same.

“Yes,” L responded easily, because it’s true. Yagami Light is Kira, he only needed to prove it. 

“I’m not Kira.” The words were lazy on his tongue. Slow and disjointed. The phrase didn’t fit well in his mouth. “I am not Kira.”

L shot him a sideways glance, the glow of the computer screen highlighting the circles under his eyes. 

Somehow, it made L appear less terrifying. Like L was human too. 

The idea brings comfort, Light thinks.

L was still affected by the tides; his body hungered and thirst. He wasn’t untouched by the aches that come from life, the proof that he has breathed. 

L doesn’t like his humanity, Light concluded. L ignores his needs and wills his body into exhaustion through deprivation. 

L tries so desperately to remove the temptations of living, his human form dragging down a brilliant mind. It was like he wanted to prove his worth, show he was above the others. L acted as if he was untouchable. Unkillable.

Being chained to L has made one thing clear to Light—that through all the attempts L has made to cloud his identity, to place himself in a category unlike a human, unlike a living being, L is much more alive than Light could ever be.

The bruises under his eyes, the pale tone of skin. His overgrown hair, wild with negligence. Even his crooked posture. 

All of it reflected the journey L took. It shows he can be touch, felt. He is no exception to the world. 

He has pushed himself so far, trying to become someone he is not, but L is human all the same. He is not a monster. Never could be.

L is human. His physical presence is evident enough. But then, what did that make Light?

Yagami Light, with his perfect smile, rehearsed emotions, acting the part of someone who never knew what it meant to be alive. 

For all his looks, all his intelligence, the touch of earth didn’t seem to claim him, leaving his soul ripped open with invisible claws. 

Light is human. Or at least, that’s what he tells himself. 

Logically speaking, there’s nothing else he could be. He is a mammal, standing upright on his two feet. Basic biology proves this point, Light is human—but he finds that defininition much too simple. 

Light, like L, resisted the temptations of humanity. He rejected the very implication. Guilt gnawed just as much as hunger and it became difficult to separate the two. Light’s conscience consumed him. Body and soul craving righteousness, craving nourishment, but he deprived himself all the same. 

Light is human. 

The idea coats his mouth with a sickly sweet flavor, wrong and intoxicating, but Light doesn’t know any better. Nausea is a comfort. 

“You appear to be acting strangely these past days,” L observed, now removed from his devices.

Light threw an arm over his face, no longer wanting to see. “Am I?” He chuckled bitterly. 

“Your reaction indicates you are aware.”

The eyes were back on L. He could feel them all over, touching his body, invisible hands ripping him from the inside out. His soul was bared for all to see. Light didn’t like it.

“I don’t know,” Light involuntarily curls closer to himself, letting the blankets of the bed ride higher up his form until they sit just below his chin. “My mind is so blurry. I don’t know how to describe it.”

“Light-kun perhaps is feeling remorse for his actions as Kira?” L sounded hopeful. Hilarious actually. He should know better by now that Light would never confess.

Light is not Kira.

“Maybe.”

There’s a long pause before either spoke. That’s something that has been happening recently. Whether it be deep conversations, friendly banter, or shouting matches, Light manages to bring along a large gap of silence with his very presence.. 

If it weren’t for the strength of his stare or the absence of clicks, Light would be convinced that L had gone back to work. 

“You’re much thinner than you once were.” 

There’s a sort of emotion in his voice that Light just can’t place. (Weakness? Pity?)

“If there is something prohibiting you from indulging in normal behavior, do not feel afraid to discuss it with me or anyone else here.” 

No— _concern_. (Practically the same thing.)

At that, Light pushes himself into a sitting position on the bed. L is only a few feet away, perched on an office chair like a bird. 

“Ryuzaki, I appreciate the offer but I’m going to have to decline.” 

“Light-kun, you do not look to be in the best condition.” 

“I’m not in the best condition?” Light repeats.

“As a friend, I think it is my responsibility to express my worries.”

“Hah, yeah. Because you’re qualified to tell me how I feel. Because you’re the great and wonderful L.” 

Light knew he was being stupid. L wasn’t trying to bait him into an argument--but Light was so fed up, so _sick_ of the questions that burned under his skin, bubbling and begging for release, that it didn’t matter if it was misplaced. Light just needed someone to take the brunt of his words.

“Please, my name is Ryuzaki—and I do believe I am qualified to analyze the difference in behavior which could be linked to something causing you distress. Is it perhaps related to the case, or family troubles?” 

(Goddamn, L just didn’t get anything. Despite the souring mood, the tensions rising, L didn’t pick up on any of the social cues to fucking shut _up._ )

“Oh, yeah you’re right. I sure wonder what could _possible_ cause me so much stress” Light practically growled. “Maybe it’s the perpetual paranoia. Or maybe it’s being accused of Kira every fucking _second_.”

With each, the venom inside grows stronger and stronger. “Actually, now that I think about it, that last one is why I spend a lot of my time questioning my own _sanity_.”

L’s eyes grew wide, either impressed by Light’s fury, or surprised by the sudden emotion. This was probably the most expressive Light has been in L’s presence.

“Wait, wait, how could I forget almost _two months_ of solitary confinement, my own _father_ putting a _gun_ to my head and pulling the trigger.” Light laughed, a horrible sound, full of contempt and bitter disdain. 

If possible, L had shrunk on himself. There seemed to be another emotion which Light felt didn’t fit him. Guilt? Certainly not fear, but maybe a sort of dawning horror. It only fueled Light’s fire.

“No, I think I finally got it, L. I know what is eating away at me—the reason why I might be acting just a _little_ different. It’s the fact that I have to spend every waking moment _chained_ to you. I can’t get a single second to move or breathe or _think_. I apologize if I appear a bit _indifferent_ but if it would make you feel better, I can go back to the person you’d expect me to be.” 

Light wasn’t sure when he had stood up, but his face was a mere few inches from the detective, full of rage and anger. 

“Analyze all you want. Make up statistics. I don’t care. If you think I’m Kira, then _fine_. I can’t change your mind.” 

It felt cathartic. This might only be the tip of the iceberg, but it was helpful nonetheless. Although, Light knew he shouldn’t ever do this again. He had to act a role and this display would have cost him severely.

Light swore he saw formulas flashing in L’s eyes as he made sense of what just happened.

He inhaled, then: “Forget it, Ryuzaki. I’m sorry I let my temper get the better of me.” 

The mask was firmly in place once again. Light needed to remember that it can never be removed. L didn’t want to see a boy in over his head, not sure if he can trust his own thoughts. L wanted to see Kira. He wanted to see perfectly rehearsed lines, measured emotions, calculated body language. It didn’t matter who Light really was. Didn’t matter if his entire existence was a facade. Everything was the same to L. He’d analyze Light to hell and back.

* * *

Since his outburst, Light has become a gentle person. He greets L with a smile and. Their conversations are short, but always pleasant. 

It was driving L insane.

And don’t think he didn’t try to intervene—trust him. L pulled out all the stops. He mentioned suspicion percentages at any opportunity, tried insulting Light’s intelligence, generally acted like himself. Normally, any of the mentioned examples would elicit _some_ kind of response, but there was nothing. No fire in his eyes, no urge to fight. 

L was going to go crazy.

And no one else seemed to understand exactly how frustrating it is besides L himself. The rest of the task force just believe Light is in higher spirits, that he’s gotten better sleep—something, but L knows. He _knows_. 

Light isn’t any better. In fact, he was worse. 

His sleep schedule was on its way to rival L’s, ignoring meals and doing nothing but work. Not to say the extra help wasn’t appreciated, it kept the case moving quick. (But that’s besides the point.)

Yagami Light was pushing his body to a new level of exhaustion, one that he had never felt before. L has had years of sleepless nights, honed his body to require the least amount of _anything_ to survive. He knows how to live like this without becoming self destructive—although some would argue his sugar intake could be detrimental to his health.

Light didn’t have any of this experience, but he was able to act exactly the same nonetheless. No snaps, rolled eyes, scoff, swears under his breath. Absolutely nothing. He was a picture perfect saint. The type of person parents wished their children would be.

It was all so… _unnerving_.

Was this Light’s way of saying he could control his every emotion, keep every secret locked up? Was this a tease? A message?

L felt like he was talking to a brick wall. Somehow he _missed_ Light’s personality.

No—no. L didn’t miss it. He only _prefered_ it over whatever Light was doing now.

He had to bring Light back. 

And to do so… well, L needed to find a way to get Light to open up. It was obvious there was something away at his mind.

* * *

From under the sheets, Light’s form twitched once. Twice. 

His normally peaceful face was scrunched up, furrowed brows and clenched jaw. Hands were fists grasping onto the pillow as if it were his lifeline.

The opportunity he had been looking for had come to L before he knew it.

With careful eyes, he studied Light, a finger ghosting over the curve of his cheekbone, a mix of admiration, horror, and curiosity. Briefly, he wondered what it would feel like to hold Light. Was his body just as sharp as his personality? Did they cut as deeply as his words?

“I tried,” Light whispered, curling closer to himself. His eyes darted from under his lids. “Stop, I tried.”

Light’s twitching became trembling and Light’s trembling became thrashing. L was about to wake him when Light pushed himself up in alarm. “Get out of my head,” he screamed.

His chest was heaving and his body swayed oh-so slightly. “Bad dream.” Light finally said after a moment.

“What happened?” L dared to ask.

“I can’t remember.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

Light pauses. “Both I think.” 

Even in the poor lighting, L can see the reluctance in the answer. As if the sentence would reveal something important, hidden. L appreciated the honesty.

“Are you okay?” 

“I’m not crazy,” Light said. “I’m not Kira.” 

“You say those as if they are synonymous.”

“I’m not a monster. I wouldn’t—I don’t want to.” He shook his head, hiding his face in his hands. “There’s so much blood on Kira’s hands. So many friends, families, _people_ affected by his actions. I can’t be him. I can’t.” 

There’s so much conviction in the way Light spoke, L almost believed it, or at least he _wanted_ to believe it.

“Is this why you’ve been acting...odd?” (Kind, dull, infuriating, aloof. The list goes on.)

“I’m not a monster.” 

“I didn’t say that you are.”

“I feel like I am.”

L took a moment to observe Light’s behavior again—reassess the damage. His shoulders were tense and there was sweat pooling at the bottom of his chin. “Is that...the reason why?” 

(Why you’ve been so distant? Why you’re driving me insane? Why you’re playing the part of an innocent man, an ill fitting mask that you parade around in like it’s your own skin?) There’s many questions L wanted to ask, but somehow he can’t find it in himself to voice them. 

“It feels like there’s something clawing at the back of my mind. Something I’ve forgotten but no matter how hard I try, I can never scratch that itch.” Light takes a shuddering breath. “Do you know how terrifying it feels? Not remembering the things you’ve done?” 

L looked into Light’s eyes and decided no, there was no hint of animosity. There was no fire, no aggression, no _hatred_ that once existed not too many moons ago. Yagami Light changed, but it was destroying him.

“Light-kun is being unclear. I don’t believe I follow.”

“Nothing even matters anymore, does it? I have to be Kira. You’re just waiting until I do something wrong and I’ll be executed.”

It felt strange seeing how distraught Light was; for some reason, it was unnatural. This was the second time Light has gotten close to opening up, but it felt like the first time L truly saw inside his mind. 

“But you said you weren’t a monster nor Kira just a moment ago.”

“I don’t know. I don’t know anymore. I’m human, L. I’m human, I’m living, I’m alive—I’m _human_.” Light was grabbed onto large chunks of hair, tugging on it with what little control he had left. 

“I never said you weren’t human, Light-Kun.” L’s voice came gentle, calming in its own right. L was surprised by the change himself, but he tried not to show it. 

Light didn’t appear to care.

“Light, please let go, you’re going to hurt yourself.” 

“No, it’s clearing my mind. It feels good.”

“I said _let go_.” 

“L—Ryuzaki—stop.”

“Light-kun,” L positioned himself to face Light directly. With two extended arms, he firmly grasped Light’s hands and brought them to his side. They were weaker than L expected. “You _will_ hurt yourself doing that.”

Their eyes locked.

Had this been any other time, L would assume Light was trying to think of the best way to throttle the detective, but this wasn’t any other time. And Light didn’t appear to be in a state capable of throttling anyone. He was thoroughly compromised. 

“Do you think I’m Kira?”

The room was quiet, only the sounds of L’s own beating heart filling the void of uneven breathing and gentle flutter of fabric. 

“For your sake, I hope you’re not.” 

Light lowered his gaze and slouched, accepting the words as if they were his own death sentence. 

“I don’t want to be Kira.” 

“I don’t want you to be either.”

They stayed still for a while. L never released Light’s hands, not that he seemed to care or mind. It wasn’t until he decided to lay down once again did they think to move. 

L silently laid next to Light, reports be damned. Watching this situation unfold was top priority, he needed to consume every second of information, analyzing each word, breath, twitch.

“Not knowing must be your greatest fear,” Light mused aloud. 

“As it is your own.”

The hours blended together and L fought through exhaustion to carefully observe Light, but eventually the drowsiness won and he succumbed to the darkness. When he awoke not too long after, L noted that one arm was being loosely held onto by Light, the other resting on the teen’s chest.

His first instinct was to move away before Light noticed, but then Light shifted his head to be closer to L and he thought that staying a little longer couldn’t hurt. 

After all, it was still information about Kira, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha gay crisis go brrrrrr


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> same warnings as last time

There were hands crawling under his skin, fingers tracing muscle fibers and nails raking through threads of flesh. It was hard to stay present.

“Thank you, Ryuzaki.” He said with a distant smile.

Light was a prisoner in his own mind. He wanted to escape, but there was no exit. All he could do was pretend to understand himself, act as if the breath in his ear was not grinding mismatched notes, aching into his soul.

“Kira is acting more erratically than before.” Light stared at the data chart in front of him. Did he make this one?

Surely. He had to. That's what L asked him to do earlier this morning. Light made a data table and now he was analyzing it. 

“Did you find anything?”

Yes. Well...he did a second ago. He was looking at something. The scribbles on screen mean something. Light just needed to remember what it was.

(What does it say?)

“We’ve distinguished the difference between _this_ Kira, and the other two before him, but within that divergence…”

It was there, Light had it. The words coming out of his mouth obviously made sense because the others were listening intently. (But what was it again?) Light had no clue. 

He was speaking like a man walking through crumbling earth, not able to outrun the ever consuming chasme below, but barely holding onto the path he was heading. 

Like singing a song and remembering the lyrics not a second earlier. 

“Even within this other Kira’s behaviors, he’s acting differently?” L finished Light’s thought for him. 

(L.)

He was always smart, ever thoughtful. And surprisingly kind, especially in recent times. Light’s mind was often a preoccupied space, but somehow, he managed to find the time to drift his thoughts back to L. Ryuzaki. The detective. 

(It will be a shame when he dies.)

_No, L won’t die_. Light wouldn’t--Kira wouldn’t kill him. It wouldn’t happen. Light isn’t Kira, so how would Kira kill L? It won’t happen. It won’t.

Light isn’t Kira. He wants to _find_ Kira with the help of L and _destroy_ Kira.

“Precisely.”

“So what do you deduce from this?” L’s words were foggy in a way, being muffled by the sounds of other voices. But there was no one else talking. Light looked around the entire room, but L was the only one with an open mouth.

“Something is happening now. Either he knows we’re getting close, or he feels confident enough to be reckless.” Light had to fight the urge to cover his ears. There were other voices, low and soft, just warped enough that Light couldn’t discern one voice from another, a word from a sentence, a sound from a note. He couldn’t hear himself think. He couldn’t hear himself breathe.

Light pushed away the bag of chips that L offered earlier and discreetly hid a hand by his side, making a tight fist. Nails under his skin, but these ones were real.

The pain was sobering and the ebbing hunger could stave off the rest.

“We’re close to uncovering the truth.” Light state returning his eyes to the computer screen. “We can prove once and for all that I’m not Kira.”

(We can prove once and for all that I’m a human.)

* * *

L found himself staring often now.

Not like he hadn’t done it before. And Light was always very much aware of his presence. But this time, it was different.

(Longing?)

No, that didn’t sound right.

(Caring?)

Still no. But it felt close.

(Possibly some unholy amalgamation of distrust, fear, guilt, anguish, and concern?)

Well, it certainly was a mouthful, but it was the best description to match the strange sensation that manifested anytime L remembered Light existed. Which was always. 

So L found himself staring more often now, but he wasn’t sure how he felt about it.

Brushing their teeth, eating meals (not that either of them tended to eat these days. At least L could say he snacks throughout the hours), and especially when Light is sleeping, L was keeping a close watch. 

The days were strange—gathering mental notes to add into Light’s file of odd behaviors and possible theories, but the nights were taxing. Light apparently gave up their little game of ‘who can stay up the longest’ in favor of attempting to find solis in unconsciousness, but it hardly worked out in his favor.

Just like that fateful night almost two weeks ago, Light suffered nightmares nearly every night. That was when L started to pay attention. He’d count how long it took on average before Light fell asleep--real sleeping, not only laying down with closed eyes. On average, it took roughly 16 minutes and 20 seconds before his breathing became slow and deep, a blank face that was free from any emotions of the day. 

Then after that, it took another estimated 3 hours and 40 minutes before he’d reach rapid eye movement with shortened breaths and cold sweats. 

L had once made the mistake of trying to wake Light. It hadn’t gone over too well— plenty of shouting, near physical fighting, but then Light gave up all together and didn’t speak to L for the remainder of the day. 

That one was worse than anything else. L didn’t like it when Light was angry at him. Or at least, angry like that. Not that he’d admit it. 

So when the nightmares continued, L knew he had to do something. It was hard to sit still and ignore Light’s visible distress, but waking him up was a mistake he’d prefer not to repeat again. The only other option was to comfort in some type of way, perhaps allowing the outside world to influence the subconscious, sleeping mind. 

L wasn’t exactly sure when he thought it was a good idea to do such a thing— _yes_ , contrary to popular belief, L _did_ understand some boundaries were not to be trifled with. He wondered idly if it had always been there, an idea floating just out of his vision, ebbing away at his peripherals, but he found out very quickly that physical contact had the habit of calming Light. 

It was a very specific type of contact, actually. L fiddled with Light’s hair, observing the way the strands fell over each other, following the parts that they had been trained to sit in. Sometimes he took one of Light’s hands and slowly opened them from their tight grips, tracing meaningless patterns on his skin, memorizing every vein, every tendon, every freckle that gave personality to Light’s hands. They were small forms of contact, but all reassuring gestures, L noticed at once. 

And once he figured that, he realized it was very similar to the self soothing habits Light had adopted into his behavior. 

Somehow—L thought to himself one late night, watching Light was a sort of fondness he’d prefer to not identify—he enjoyed the closeness, however strange it was. 

It was like for a moment, L could forget the formalities. Forget he wasn’t a detective, as brilliant as he was alone. Forget the hundreds of thousands of deaths he let happen. Forget that Light was the killer and the inevitable downfall of L’s own life. 

These inbetweens, the times when L forgot everything of who he was and who he needed to be, they were...refreshing. Comforting. 

L dared cupping Light’s face with a hand, thumb ghosting over the soft features. It felt right, L decided. It felt like this was something he ought to be doing, guarding Light’s restless mind like a knight protects his castle. 

When Light’s features relaxed, pinched brows returning to a peaceful state and head leaning closer to L’s touch, he is met with a nagging thought. 

It has been there for a long while now, but L chose to ignore it, chose to leave it unacknowledged, forever fading behind more important thoughts. 

But just this once, maybe he should indulge. After all, he was nobody special right now; he was only a simple man with simple problems.

So what could this feeling possibly be?

L let himself feel content, holding Light’s face, pressing gentle touches in hopes of calming him down. But why did he feel such pleasure from small gestures? That, of course, was the exact issue he normally refused to think of. Refused to answer. 

But L is a simple man right now, he reminds himself. He can entertain such possibilities while he is still unimportant. 

Could it be that it was...misplaced affection? 

L had to admit he was deprived of the comforts most children—most _people_ consumed. He didn’t have lovers, nor did he have friends. L was a lonely man, not that he’d ever say such things. Instead, he’d tell you he was busy. That he was dangerous. 

His life had no place for relationships, no room for safety.

So it would make logical sense that he is now forming the connections he never had, craving intimacy in whatever form it presents itself. 

No, L was still denying himself, denying the thoughts he said he’d revel in. He was making excuses for himself. 

L knew deep down, he was only hoping it was misplaced. With a thin finger, he carefully brushed a strand of hair from Light’s face. 

The affection had been there for a long time, stewing in the back of his mind, finally boiling over into his conscious mind, his everyday actions. L had inexplicably fallen for Light--for Kira, and there was absolutely nothing he could do besides ignore it.

Ignore the warm bubbles in his stomach, the electric tingle that danced across his skin, the happiness he felt when he got to have an intellectual discussion with Light--with someone of an equal mind as himself.

Light seemed to really believe he was innocent. Either that, or he was pretending.

No matter the truth, L sincerely prayed that for once in his life, he was utterly wrong. For his sake and for Light’s sake, he wished Kira was someone else entirely.

* * *

Light was not one to be disgusted. He rarely let such emotions appear beyond his mind, much less manifest visibly on his face. 

But when they discovered Kyosuke Higuchi, Light felt sick to his stomach.

This was a person, a _human_ who was so indifferent to murder. Actually, it looked like he _enjoyed_ it if his enthusiastic number of kills meant anything at all.

Blindly, Light thought he should at least feel relieved—someone else as Kira, someone else was a monster. 

But Light didn’t feel any better. Spiders crawled in Light's stomach, invisible spindly legs climbing about his inner lining. There were whispers in his ears, like the muffled shrieks of an unknown language, too loud to be inside his head, but too quiet to exist externally. 

Light was a logical thinker, yes. He looked at data and found a predicted outcome. Kira’s identity as Higuchi should have made Light happy, but all it did was sink him lower than before. 

They predicted— _Light_ predicted—that Higuchi was the third Kira. The styles clashed too horrendously for it to be anything short, but having it all placed out… having a face to an anonymous killer...Light had the strange sensation that he understood all too well. 

Despite the number of loose ends, missing pieces, and mismatched clues, Light had the absolute strangest sensation that he knew how it all worked together. 

Higuchi was supposed to be found. He was bait, tied up nice and pretty for L to pounce on like a fat tabby cat parading his ruined toy as a trophy. 

Higuchi was supposed to be found, then something detrimental would happen to their efforts—likely coming from the source of Kira’s powers. It felt too perfect, there had to be more to it. Light _knew_ there was more. 

Everything would fall right into L’s lap, but there was certainly a catch. 

And Light felt even more sick realizing he had to be the only one to understand so quickly, to know the outcome long before anyone could guess the ending. 

Light is human. 

Light is not Kira. 

Light is not a monster. 

_But Higuchi is just as human as anyone else_. Higuchi was manipulated, torn, twisted, and sewn together in whatever way Kira—the original Kira—saw fit. Power destroys, it corrupts, and it intoxicates everything it touches, laying waste to the fertile soil it was planted in. Higuchi is human. 

But Light is a monster. 

_I am not Kira. I am not a monster_.

No, Light is worse than a monster.

_I’m human. I am human._

Light pushes away his only meal in favor of mindlessly thumbing through pages. He can feel L’s eyes trail his motion and decides the distraction is welcomed.

* * *

It was hard to set up and even harder to maintain in action, but they miraculously pulled it off. Kyosuke Higuchi was cornered and there was no escape. Everything had fallen in place, but Light inexplicably felt like something was wrong.

“The notebook,” Higuchi explains, his forehead pressed firmly to the ground, “is everything. Its how I kill.”

“Notebook?”

”Inside the bag. But be careful, you might see something you regret.” 

“Is that a threat?” Soichiro can’t help but glare down at the man. He was a disgrace of a person, worthless, Light thinks to himself.

_Worthless._ He freezes.

No, no not worthless. Every human life had worth, they had value, even if they were vial, disgusting criminals. Even if they were murderers who took pleasure from watching destruction take rune to the world. 

_Even if they’d be better off dead?_

Light is thinking rationally, he really is. The worms in his brain, the slimy wind of whispers, they didn't exist. Light was thinking rationally. He is not Kira. He is not a murderer. He is justice, he is human, he is right. 

He is _right_.

Somewhere deep from within, there was a pulse, a beat as loud and commanding as a march. He was being called out to, spoken to. His head was deafening, vibrations clashing like cymbals. 

_He is right. He is right. He is right. He is right._

Light is not Kira. Light is not a monster. 

_Do it. Do it. Do it._

Light is human. Light is rational. 

_You’re right. You’re right. You are right._

His hands trembled in a way that reminded him of hunger as much as it did fear. His stomach an ever consuming chasm, voiding anything that came in his path much like his ambition. It would be his downfall, someone once told him. He’d dream too wide, think too far, and forget himself. Lose himself. 

Light wouldn’t lose himself. He was human. 

Was. He _was_ human. 

_Was. Was. Was. Was._

He was human, he lost himself, right? That’s why L thinks he’s Kira. That’s why he’s living like this. Light _isn’t_ Kira, he’d never become a filthy, worthless monster. He’d never become as heartless and cruel as he is calculating. No, Light is perfect. He is human. He was human. He-

“Monster!” Soichiro screamed, his body collapsed to the floor, fumbling for the gun he didn’t have. 

“Dad? Dad! What’s going on?” Light pushed back the stupor that threatened to devour his last shreds of sanity, deciding the task at hand deserved more focus. 

“Don’t hurt me—don’t—“ 

“Chief, what are you talking about? There’s nothing there.” 

“Can’t you see it? It’s huge, it’s-“

Light watched the events unfurl in slow motion, Mogi offering a hand to Soichiro, picking up the notebook in the process, and turning around without hesitation as if a new threat had appeared. 

“What the hell is that?” The man shouted, tripping over his own feet. 

L made a sound of interest, “Give me the notebook,” he said through his headset. 

Mogi scrambled around for a moment, breathing hard before he collected himself. “It’s a large skeleton looking thing,” he answers the question in L’s eyes. “Brace yourself. It’s right over there.”

L takes the notebook between his index and thumb when his eyes go wide in terror. Unlike the other two, he didn’t make a sound nor did he flinch. L simply sat there with the note in his hands and a head that was moving much quicker than anything else. 

Light felt frustrated. There were eyes in his head, eyes surrounding him, and he needed to find the source of the echo. The closer the notebook got, the more violent the internal thrashing became. 

It was instinctual. Light needed to hold the note. He needed to feel the rough leather beneath the pads of his fingertips. He was going to go crazy if he didn’t see, if he didn’t understand. 

Without another second, Light pulled it from L’s feeble grip. The eyes closed. His insides stilled.

Then his body was set alight. His lungs heaved, thin tissue melting away at the incredible heat. Light felt like he was set on fire from the inside, eyeballs pressed against his lids with an impossible pressure, an invisible thumb forcing its way through the center if only to imagine how it’d feel to pop the surface tension like a grape. 

Teeth chewed on the rough folds of his brain, tongue wet with saliva, gnashing and writhing, savoring every flavor. Hands brushed through his nerves like it was hair, combing through the networks of living tissue as if they were knotted strands of keratin. 

His chest burned and his heart was being grated like cheese, chunks of meat falling inside his body. His bones were twisting, writhing, charred in his hopeless flesh, wearing skin like a shirt one size too large. 

Every inch of his existence was crying in pain.

And he screams. Screams for all he was, all he could be. Screams for every contradiction, every sin committed. Light screams because transparent thread was sewn into his mind and he was no longer in control. Light was Kira’s puppet, and Light has never felt more utterly devastated, disgusted, than he is now. 

Memories flashed, burning the details like a CD into his head. Light felt like he was going to throw up.

“Light?”

That was L.

L. 

Focus now. L is right there. He-He had to. Light had to...this all had to go according to plan.

“I’m okay,” he offers, but his voice sounds weak to his own ears. “The...The monster.”

“Startling, yes?”

_That’s one way of putting it._

Light swallowed, his mouth dry and a knot forming in his throat. “You really think this notebook is how they killed? Writing names in it?”

“I too find it hard to believe, but we can’t risk testing it because if it’s true...well I’m sure you understand.” L shook his head like he was getting rid of a displeasing image. 

Light could understand. The Death Note often led to plenty of displeasing images. And now he was back in possession. And now Kira was within his threshold once again.

_I’m sure you missed me._ The words rattle around Light’s mind, wrapping his skull and slithering between the cracks. 

Light is human.

Kira is a God.

Light is Kira.

Kira is a monster.

Does that make Light a monster as well? He’s a murderous, coldblooded demon that rules the world with ink and paper, defending the title of justice. 

No--No, there's no time for internal debates. Kira needs to take care of loose ends before anything should happen.

The Death Note is still firmly in his grasp and L has yet to remove it, only staring at Light with a mix of worry and grief. That meant there was enough time for action, for everything to go through as Kira intended. 

On his watch was a clipping of the note and a needle. All he had to do was write Higuchi’s name to kill that owner and become the new owner of the Death Note, retaining all of his memories.

But...did Light want that? 

To be ignorant was to be blissful. 

He was absolved of his sins, removed from the burden that came from his blood stained hands. Light was free of any entanglement he once had, he was . He was good.

_You were missing something,_ Kira supplies.

Yes, yes.. Light was ignorant, but he never experienced bliss, only numbing anxiety and constant stress. He was fearful of the unknown, the actions he took while his mind was absent. Light was fragmented, torn apart. This was right. He was right.

With a drop of blood on the tip of the needle. Light sentenced Higuchi to death. With his own two hands, Light condemned another man for the cause.

He deserved it, Kira cooed. It was his fault. He wasn’t fit for the Death Note, using it for selfish gain. Greed is what caused his death.

Light’s hands shook with adrenaline, a sensation he since forgot. He took a man’s life.

He took a man’s life. 

_(Preserve the show.)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> might have to wait until after Christmas to post the last chapter. still adding the last details ;)

**Author's Note:**

> k so i binge watched death note and had this story in my head ever since. 
> 
> pls comment, it gives me serotonin


End file.
